Goodbyes
by Robin Birdie
Summary: They weren't together any longer . . . Wade hoped to win Peter back, to be together again, but the silent treatment stood in his way. He just couldn't get Peter to respond to him. It broke his heart. ("Surprises and Starts" sequel - One-Shot)


**Goodbyes**

"Looking good there, baby boy!"

Wade reached out to touch Peter's forehead. He gave a smile and let his fingertips brush lightly, as if he might disturb him with the touch, and he was forced to frown at just how cold the other's face felt. It was almost like glass, although he thought that was a pretty stupid observation, but still -! Peter was always so warm. Actually, that was a lie, because sometimes Peter could be damned _hot_, but today wasn't one of those times. It felt weird not to have Peter reach back out or lean into his touch, so he pulled away . . .

It was weird to see those blue eyes look kind of grey, but that was what illness did to a person, and Wade knew that personally. There were times where he barely recognised any sense of life in his reflection, like he was a walking ghost, and he _never_ wanted to see Peter get that way, because Peter . . . Peter was his life . . . he symbolised hope for a city, love for their family, and those blue eyes were always so beautiful. Wade looked away from them, as he sensed maybe a hint of judgement. Peter never _judged_ him as such, but Wade was literally a walking cancer and . . . well . . . did anyone want that kind of reminder around? It was probably made worse by how Wade would never succumb to it, but Peter -!

"Don't look at me like that!" Wade snapped. "Just say something!"

"He's not going to say a word, Pops," muttered Benjamin.

Wade pouted and dropped his head into his hands, with elbows rested upon his knees. He would admit that he loathed the whole silent treatment thing, so that often he would fill any silence with any kind of mutterings or ravings, but he could understand Peter's need to stay silent, because . . . well . . . they weren't together now, weren't they? It was enough to make Wade feel sick to his stomach, so that he felt it roll and the nausea rise, but he couldn't bring himself to look away from Peter, even as he thought about all he lost.

He turned his head just slightly to look at Benjamin. It was kind of funny to see the teenager _try_ to sit down and fail, as his stomach _really_ got in the way, but – at the same time – it reminded Wade so much of Peter! They had some real good times before Peter left them. Hell, even when his husband was suffering during the pregnancy with May, he still looked all glowing and gorgeous and great! Benjamin was kind of the same. There was a flush to Benjamin's cheeks and they were kind of chubby now, too, whilst he did Peter's old trick of wearing sweatshirts several sizes too big, as if he tried to hide the growing life. Wade always had the urge to reach out and touch, but Benjamin – unlike Peter – _loathed _that.

Still, it kind of made sense, didn't it? Benjamin never intended to get pregnant, whilst Wade _still_ hadn't heard the whole story about the why and how, but the parts he did hear . . . it was a whole case of super bad luck! He knew Benjamin would be a good dad. Fuck, Peter knew that, too, so that he was actually pretty supportive before – well – stuff happened . . . anyway, no point dwelling on bad things, right? Wade forced a smile. It didn't stop his heart racing awkwardly, as he looked nervously to Peter's expression . . . what would Petey be thinking? The suit didn't suit him either. Wade wondered _why_ it had to be a suit.

"He's just sulking," said Wade.

"Sure, whatever," muttered Benjamin. "Five dollars says he won't reply."

"You don't know my sweetums! Your dad's the guy that took out bad guys, that survived losing his leg, that even managed to have you -! Seriously, that ought to have been impossible, but he did it! Peter can do anything! Right, Petey?"

Benjamin rolled his eyes. He placed a hand on Wade's shoulder for balance, before he _eventually_ managed to bend his legs at an awkward angle and sit down. There was actually a small sweat on his brow, as he panted and sat with legs upright and parted, almost like how Peter looked in labour with May, except Benji wasn't in labour! Wade saw how frustrated his son looked, as well as how swollen his stomach had become, and he found himself beaming brightly, only -! Only then he felt like shit, because when he and Peter weren't together -!

"I'm sorry, Pops," said Benjamin. "I'm just . . . I don't know."

"Hey, you try that cocoa butter and vitamin e, shit? I think Peter tried that one time, didn't you, Petey? Supposed to be real good at stretchmarks and pain and stuff! He got pissed at me during the one with May, because I used it all on my skin, but it was a bad skin day, you know? I poured tons of the stuff into the bath and bathed in it! I offered Petey to join me, but he couldn't, 'cause the pregnancy was a bad one. Is yours still good?"

"It's been two months since Dad . . . I just -! I – I don't know, Pops! What do you want me to say? Yeah, it's – it's been as good as it can be, but -! We _need_ you! You – you just took off after everything happened! What am I supposed to do? You -!" Benjamin sighed and shook his head. "Dad's not going to say anything to you. He can't make this better."

"Fuck! He's sitting right there, isn't he! Three of us all together! It's nice!"

"I'm allergic to fucking flowers."

Wade rolled his eyes and reached out to pluck one. It was fresh and smelled nice, but it was one of Petey's favourite kinds. If it were up to Wade, he would have planted their garden _full_ of them! Still, he only came home at nights, so he could check in on the kids through the windows and make sure they were okay, then – _bam_ – back out! Benjamin usually came home late anyway, now he passed his Regents and finally had a _paid_ internship, but he was a good kid. He made May do her homework, stayed up talking with her, did the chores -!

"Wait, you have a healing factor!"

"So?" Benjamin said with a shrug. "Look, maybe I just don't _like_ them. I don't know. They make me feel so _sick_ when I smell them, and this is _really_ not the best place for morning sickness. Right now, it's more like _mourning_ sickness, with a 'u'. It's fucked up."

"Your dad made that exact same joke with you! Ha! You remember, Petey?"

"I think he mentioned ginger to me. That was at the three-month mark."

"What are you now? Seven months?"

Benjamin gave a sad smile, as he rubbed at his stomach. It wouldn't be long until he gave birth, which was a thought that terrified Wade, as he wondered whether this ability to bear young would continue through their line . . . that would be one thing, but what if the healing factor continued on, too? That had to have some effect on the world, right? There could be a whole race of people in the future all immortal or something! Wade wanted to ask Peter, but a part of him _knew_ there was no way that Peter would answer him.

They sat together in silence for a moment or two, as they both stared at Petey, but it was rather chilly in the garden . . . even if Benji said it wasn't a garden, because only gardens had flowers and butterflies and sunlight! It was pretty! The light shone on Peter's face, where it made his smile seem all the brighter and his hair almost looked brown for a moment, instead of that weird shade of grey. This reminded him of something, but he couldn't think what. He wondered briefly on all the people they lost between them, just as he wondered how Ellie felt and what Preston would say, and suddenly he felt a little sad again.

"It's not long now, no," said Benjamin sadly.

"You ever going to tell that Norman bastard?"

Benjamin let out a hollow laugh. There was a low breeze across from the gates to where they sat, which ruffled his brown locks and made them messy, and Wade wanted to reach out and muss his hair further, but he could see that it would only annoy his son. It was kind of like seeing Petey during that whole angry phase! He could see in such _rage_ in those brown eyes, which probably would have scared away a lesser person, and yet he looked so casual and relaxed in his body, like those weren't his eyes, but someone else's.

"I know I should, Pops, I know I should . . ."

"You sure he didn't . . . you know?"

"What? No!" Benjamin shook his head. "God no!"

It was starting to get cold. Real cold. Wade wanted to leave, even if Petey was sulking and probably didn't want to see him, but he didn't want to leave his husband when it was so _cold_! Petey hated the cold! Well, at least a proper suit was more protective than a skin-tight spider-suit! Still, Wade couldn't help but look on his husband and feel . . . sad. It was weird seeing those eyes staring at him unblinkingly, so that he felt that the younger man was pretty pissed, but Benji would accuse him of projecting or something . . .

"I spoke to Liz. Er, Normie's mom?"

"The hot chick with the blonde hair?" Wade asked. "What she say?"

"Not much," muttered Benji. "Well, she thinks I should tell Normie, but I asked her how the fuck I'm supposed to do that. We spoke for _ages_, but I -! I chickened out, Pops! We were right outside Normie's _fucking_ door, but I -! I chickened out!"

"It's probably for the best," snapped Wade. "You can do better alone."

"Oh, yeah, _that_ seems fair on Normie _and_ my son!"

There was another rush of air, which rustled the flowers and waved the aroma around. It was enough to make Benji gag and turn away from the soft ground, whilst Wade frowned and reached out to touch Peter's hand, only it was pretty chilly and felt so tense. Wade tried to hold it, but he couldn't. He frowned and returned to leaning on his hands, as he pouted and glared at his husband's face . . . the words _August 15__th_floated into his head briefly . . . he realised that they would be spending Petey's birthday apart. It wasn't his birthday yet, but what would Petey want him to do? It was supposed to be a family day!

"You know Liz is dying?" Benjamin said.

"Yeah?" Wade dropped his hands onto his lap. "What of?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know? You don't fucking _ask_ people that."

"You kidding me? It's all anyone ever fucking asks your dad about his cancer," said Wade. "What kind? What stage? What treatment? Don't know how he doesn't gut them for asking the same questions over and over and over! I'm glad the last couple o' months been quiet!"

"Yeah, well, _I'm _not," said Benjamin coldly. "Look, I _know_ what Normie is going through, but I -! I can't _help_ him through it! I hate it! He – he doesn't get on with his step-dad, even though Foggy seems like a pretty cool guy to me, but I guess that's kind of normal? I mean I – I know you'll have to meet someone else at some point, but . . . I don't know how I'll deal with that. I guess – I guess it could feel like a betrayal?"

"Oh, come on! How the fuck do _you_ know how Normie feels?"

"Take a look, Pops! See where the fuck we are!"

Wade looked back to Peter with a pout. The gravestone was still shiny and new, even after the passing of two long months, whilst the photograph of Peter was somewhat faded into black-and-white from how the sun stained it. Benjamin arranged for an engraver to put a picture onto the stone itself, but – so far – it had yet to be done, so that only the macaroni photo-frame stood . . . one made by May as a child and cherished by Peter until the day of his death, inside a photo of Peter taken last year. Wade smile sadly and felt a tear fall.

The cemetery was still a cemetery, no matter how many flowers he planted or candles he lit, and Gwen's grave – next to Peter's – stood as a stark reminder of how death truly was inevitable, taking away the best of people before their time. It – it was fucking _wrong_ that scum like Wade could still be standing, but Peter -! Wade swallowed hard. He remembered coming home one day to see Benjamin weeping in the living-room, hearing how his pregnant boy came home early and found Peter asleep on the sofa, only he _wasn't_ asleep . . . he was _gone_. Peter -! Peter wasn't _supposed_ to go! Peter was a hero! Peter was -!

_Gone_.

It was hard to be strong where _everywhere_ acted as a reminder of what was lost, when _everyone_ reminded him of Peter . . . he hated their sympathy, he hated their questions, and he hated their – their – their _presumption _as to know his fucking loss! Their bed still had an indent where Peter slept. Their shower still had half-used soaps that smelled of Peter. Their house was still lined with photos of Peter and their children. It – it was as if Peter was still _there_! Wade still . . . he still put out an extra plate, just as he still turned to look at his husband after telling a joke, and he still leaned out to put his hand over Peter and hold him close, only to feel cold sheets . . . an empty bed . . . _nothing_.

"You can't keep pretending he's alive," said Benjamin.

Wade felt his throat tighten, as he gave a shaky smile. It was hard to breathe, but he had to keep on smiling, because Peter would _want_ him to smile and – and -! He would be back soon, anyway! There was no point in grieving when you hadn't lost anything, right? It was more like a – a – a temporary misplacement! Wade reached out to touch the photo – no – _Peter_, because Peter would be back and he would laugh and think Wade stupid and -! Wade felt his eyes burn with unshed tears and narrowed his eyes to keep them at bay. He smiled weakly, as he tried to convince himself of the desperate lie: he would be okay.

"He's coming back," muttered Wade.

"No, he isn't! I – I'm _tired_ of dealing with all the shit in _my_ life, as well as yours on top! I'm carrying this baby and I'm dealing with fucking _loss_ of my dad and -! You – you just _left_! I – I can – I can get that you're upset, but -! I'm trying to work full-time and keep the house going, not to mention getting May to school and making sure she's okay and -! I can _deal_ with being a dad, but not one to my sixteen-year-old sister! She needs _you_! _We _need you!"

"You don't fucking get it, Benji! He _isn't_ dead! This – this is just a weird alternate continuity or something! Plus, writers being their main characters back to life all the time! He'll be back soon, Benji! He will! He has to be back . . . I just got to be patient!" Wade looked to the grave and smiled. "Right, baby boy? You won't make me a liar, will you?"

"He's dead, Pops! He's dead and we're still here! I – I'm going to have to live with that, as well as the fact that _everyone_ I love that way will die, too, and my son -? He might suffer the same way we suffer. We're fucking cursed. He – he's _gone_, Pops!"

"_He's not dead! You're a liar! You're lying!"_

"He's dead! Gone!"

Wade let out an inhuman scream. It was enough to make Benjamin wince and look away, whilst some mourners afar turned to look upon them with disgust or pity, and Wade could do nothing but hunch forward and clench at his head. He felt his nails tear into his skull, but the pain only served to remind him that he was _alive_ . . . he was alive, but Peter wasn't! He began to rock himself back and forth, as he felt the tears roll. They burned! They burned and they wouldn't stop, but neither would the scream! He felt something tear. His throat hurt.

He lifted his legs, so he could rest his head upon them and look upon Benjamin. He wrapped his arms around himself and rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth . . . until he felt lost in the movement; unable to think of anything else except the movement . . . he smiled brokenly. Wade could taste the tears, both bitter and salty upon his lips and tongue, whilst his lips trembled and opened in a desperate attempt to form words that just wouldn't come. _It hurt! _There – there was a pain in his chest that _hurt_, even as he found himself sobbing and shaking his head continuously over and over, as he rocked back and forth . . . it hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt! When would it stop hurting?

"He's not dead," whispered Wade. "Not really."

Benjamin raised a hand to his lips and Wade saw it shake. Then – in a matter of seconds – he felt his son scoot closer and wrap his arms around him, with the baby bump pressed against his side in an almost comforting manner, and suddenly he wept in earnest. Wade grabbed Benjamin almost painfully, as he buried his head against the teenager's neck, and he found himself letting out embarrassingly primal and animalistic cries of pain, each one quieter and more broken than the last . . . until he was simply whimpering and sniffing. Peter would have known what to say . . . Peter would have made it right . . .

He felt a vibration in Benjamin's chest, as his son began to hum a song that Peter used to sing to the children when they were growing, and Wade struggled to remember the words, which caused him to clench harder as the guilt struck. Every thing he forgot felt like a slap in Peter's face, as everything about Peter was worth remembering! Everything! Benjamin began to stroke his head, even as he felt tears from his son fall upon him, and he knew he should have been strong for Benjamin, not the other way around! He – he hated this. He hated this!

"It's okay, Pops," said Benjamin softly. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. It'll never be okay again."

"Pops, you just need _time_."

"I'll never be okay."


End file.
